Where Evil Reigns
by canadiankiwi
Summary: *ON HIATUS* Born the same year. Born the same day. Joined will push the predjudices away. Such is the prophecy recorded over two hundred years before. No one has figured it out. And it has never been realized before now.
1. Chapter 1

Some say it was the gypsies fault. The people who didn't want to accept that fact said it. Others thought it was the boy. The select villagers who had met him said that. The prejudiced, harsh ones took it out on that one gypsy girl. And since most in the kingdom were like that, they all blamed her.

If you had really known what was going on, you would know that it was no one's fault. In fact, there was nothing quite to be blamed on anyone. But you don't know the situation. It isn't even clear for you. It would be much better if we started at the beginning. The beginning is the only place where this would make sense. So let us start our journey now. At the _Beginning._

This _Beginning_ starts as most do, with _Once Upon a Time_. Such perfect words to start a tale; they set the tone just right for a story as such. Much like other fairy tales, this story starts with those words. But this is not a normal fairy tale. This is not a myth or a legend; this really happened. Although, much like all the stories that are passed on, it must have a basis as a tall tale. So before we reach the _Storyland_, our train must first stop at a larger station called _The Past._

* * *

_"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men." -Lord Acton_

The land of Torragao was always powerful. Therefore, it must always be corrupted. And it was. Ravaged from the beginning of time, to the times of now.

It started with King Locton. He was, as documented by all of the history books, the greatest king to date. But, in being the greatest, we must assume he was bad. And he was. King Locton was driven by greed; the sin infused into his soul since he was a child. He demanded the best from his parents, bullied the servants, and threw massive tempers when he didn't get his way. Sadly, he did not grow out of it. He bullied his way into power, took the fairest woman he could find for a wife, and created the kingdom of Torragao. But he was not content with being in control of just one land. He built up an army of unwilling subjects, and swiftly took over the nearby kingdom of Attica. He did the same thing to Oiyness and Birali. Killing their rulers, and making them mere cities in his dominion.

Alas, his greed was nearly the downfall of Torragao. All the riches the people had were siezed by the king, and the people were put to work on the king's land. The subject became poor and malnourished, and several devastating epidemics came and went. The kingdom soon began to fall into disrepair. It was Queen Desdeemona who saved them all.

She firmly told the king the if he didn't change his ways, the kingdom would be worthless. King Locton had never been able to resist his wife.

Runeous, a small town in the center of the kingdom was expanded, fortified and made into the High City, where the kings and queens lived. Five other cities; Sihya, Lucknow Grove, the Golden Causeway, Martinguesture and Dunmire Fen, were built in strategic locations for both trade and defence purposes. Gradually, the people were given more rights and freedoms. Taxes were lowered, trade agreements were established, and the way of life was generally improved. Though the rulers of Torragao were traditionally cruel, it helped the kingdom work better. One gear out of place, and the kings and queens would deal with in in the swiftest, and often most brutal way.

So, there is the history of the land that will help you understand the story better, safe for a few key elements.

The first is that it wasn't all sunshine and butterflies for the people of Torragao. King Locton and Queen Desdeemona both despised gypsies and vagabonds. A few laws were passed, and the once merry wanderers of the land were banished to the Insurgo Forest. Once step out of line, and the gypsies would be severely delt with. They were expected to come to the cities only when summoned to perform. It soon became fashionable to have a gypsy fortune teller or dancer at a party. Everyone was happy with this arrangement, except of course, the gypsies.

It was written in all of the history books that Queen Desdeemona was a reformer and saviour of Torragao. She did one other thing, though. She made a prophecy minutes beofre she died. _Born the same year. Born the same day. Joined will push the predjudices away._ That was written in all the books too, but no one bothered with it. No one knew what it meant, and no one cared about figuring it out.

Which brings us closer to the real story. We need to zoom forward a few hundred years now, and look in on Torragao.

The kingdom was in joy. There were celebrations going on in all of the cities and villages. Queen Ariellea, second wife of King Vosgras, had given birth to a son. Jayson Caros Kayd deRegalis, first heir of the evil king Vosgras. Though they hated their king, the people were content. Plus, they loved to party.

Deep in the Insurgo Forest, there were parties as well. Matayah Maize, the best cook of all the gypsies, had given birth the same day as the prince. This child was a girl named Laire, who greeted life with a smile the first minute of her existence. The smile made their joyus celebration all the better. They hadn't had much to celebrate the past few years.

* * *

Fifteen years passed since that cheerful day. With each passing of the times Prince Jayson grew into a tall, handsome young man, sought after by all of the young ladies in the land. He also became quite educated: learning much about ruling and history, to prepare him for life later on. He was quite solemn and quiet and spent a lot of time alone: much to the dismay of the King and Queen. They wanted their son to take a wife before he was made King. He never showed an interest in girls, something which made many women sigh in disappontment. Many suitors were sent to him and all of them were turned away. It soon became a competition to see who would last more than a day with the Prince, much to his chagrin.

The young gypsy girl grew too. She was tall and lanky, though she built up quite a bit of muscle from climbing trees and such. She was taught to read by one of the elders, and that grew into a passion. The smile that had charmed everyone when she was a child grew, and it had the power to make anyone happy. Laire was shy as a young girl, but became bolder as she grew. Laire never understood why the gypsies were shunned, and she didn't think she should have to perform for people that hated her. When the gypsies were summoned to the villages, Laire would retreat to the back of the caravan and read.

So now you know the facts. You have learned the history of the land, and you have met some of the people who live in it. Now it is time to turn to the real story. We have now reached the real _Beginning. _Watch now, as our train pulls into _Storyland_ station. We must now write the words _Once Upon a Time, _and begin with the real story. Then you can decide who's fault it really was. Or if there was a fault at all.

* * *

_Once Upon a Time..._

Laire was sitting by the Micanis Stream, as she often did. She alone, something also usual. There were not many people in the troupe that shared her interests, and those that did were always practicing for some show or another. She wished every night that she might have a normal life, or at least not have to live in exile. She loved the woods, and hated the noisy towns, but she wished hard that she could live somewhere she loved without being shunned.

"Larkspur!"

Laire smiled to herself as she heard the voice call out to her. There was only one person who used her nickname. She stood up, stretched and twirled on her heel to see the speaker. Logan Hickory was running over to her, his freckly face spread in a wide grin.

"Sparrow!" Laire shouted back at him. They always used these nicknames,once as annoyances, but now for affection. Laire got her nickname because she had fallen into a patch of teh flowers when she was a child. Logan got his because he was always fascinated by birds. Logan was the only one in the gypsy camp who understood her and they now shared an unusual friendship.

"Larkspur," Logan said, gasping for breath, "I don't think you are going to like this."

"Why wouldn't I? You are smiling. That's always good."

"I am only smiling because you are smiling. Though yours might disappear when I tell you the news."

Laire blushed slightly, forgetting the power of her smile. Logan was a good prophet though, for her grin quickly disappeared when he told her what he had come for.

"Pack your bags. We are going to Runeous, to preform in front of the royals no less."

Laire silently cursed. Travelling to perform was bad enough. Going to the High City meant even more jeers from people. They had never gone to entertain the king, though. From what Laire could tell, they weren't allowed in the palace. She frowned, and asked Logan why.

"For that stuck-up Princely of his. Apparently we are going to be the entertainment for the fesivities. Something like the Prince's birthday and coronation all in one week. Come on now. We are leaving right away."

Laire and Logan walked back to the main camp slowly. Both of them were puzzled, and both of them hated being ordered around.

* * *

"Gypsies! Are you out of your mind? They are bad enough in town. Do you have to bring them right into the palace?" Queen Ariellea, known far and wide for her temper, was shrieking at her husband. King Vosgras looked pained.

"Dear, I am only doing this for our son. He requested them, and you said to let him do what he wanted for his birthday. I hate them as much as you do. Don't worry. They won't even come inside. They will dance in the courtyard." The King was trying to be calm, though he was bottling up his annoyance inside.

"Jayson asked for them? Where is that boy?"

The fair-haired Prince arrived a few minutes later, uncomfortable facing his angry parents. He knew this moment would come sooner or later, but he rathered it be later. Much later. "Yes mum?" He asked, trying to be non-chalant.

"You are completely off your rocker! What are you playing at? Inviting gypsies to the High Castle? Are you out of your mind? They are vile wood-people. Can you imagine them being near my splendid castle? The scandal! Give my answers, my son, and they had better be good ones."

"I just wanted to experience some different cultures. There are people from Oiyness, Norchel, Birali and Droiss. Is it not right to have gypsies as well?"

"It most certainly isn't! You want culture? You can have culture. But no gypsies." The Queen was going ballistic, practically shaking the walls with her loud voice.

"Now son," the King stated sternly. "I did promise you could plan anything you wanted too, but inviting filth is going a bit far. I will allow it only this once. This once. Do you hear me? You are to take full responsibility, and if there is any trouble, you will have to answer for it. Now go. They are to arrive any minute, and you are going to supervise the screening."

Prince Jayson slouched off. He had known it would be bad, but this was worse. Now he would have to stand out by the gate and make sure the idiot guards did their job. And he would be in full view of the whole city, including those lovestruck girls and his fan club.

In hindsight, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He just had to look regal while the guards searched the gypsies bags. No biggie.

* * *

Laire thought it was quite annoying. Having these guards searching their belongings to make sure they didn't have anything dangerous. As if they had weapons in the forest. The guard looking through her bag wasn't the brightest one on the block. He was examining her wooden flute carefully."What do you think this is, girl?" he asked, seemingly puzzled.

"It's a flute, genius," Laire muttered. "Do you really think it's a magic sword?" She immediately regretted her comment however. The heavyset guard smacked her across the face and sent her reeling to the ground. Laire jumped up quickly. Even if he was dumb, he wasn't a weakling.

"What was that for?" she shouted. "I answered your question!"

"You cheeky little wench," the guard bellowed. He reached out his meaty fist, and with a swift movement had pinned her against the wall. "You will pay for that little remark," he uttered, and then louder he called out to his superior, a large beefy man who looked quite sinister.

"What is it, Doigson? Is the filth giving you trouble?"

"Aye Captain. Calling me names she was," the guard replied.

Laire couldn't stand this. "I was just going through this idiotic screening process. He didn't know what a flute is, for heavens sake! So I answered his question and he hit me." She was getting exasperated. Not to mention her shoulders were aching, as the guard still had her firmly pinned to the wall.

"See sir? That is what I have to put up with." The guard called Doigson was looking triumphant.

"She has a tongue on her, that's for sure," the Captain was scrutinizing her, making Laire feel quite uncomfortable.

"Fine. I 'have a tongue'. Will you put me down now? It's just I am so loving being dragged out of my home and brought to put on a show for you nasty, pathetic losers," Laire had never really stood up for herself like that before. She was quite enjoying insulting these dumbells. She was not, however, enjoying the thrashing. With her last comment she was delt a stinging blow across the face, harder than she ever deemed possible.

"Put her down," came a new voice. This one was full of authority, and one that the guards listened to. The grip on her arm relaxed and she was shoved down to the ground. Laire was practically kissing a pair of shiny, rich looking boots. She struggled up from the ground. She was heavily winded, so getting up was a bit of a challlenge. A strong arm reached out to help her up. Although her helper was strong, the hold was gentle; something Laire was not accustomed to.

When she finally managed to stand on her feet, she raised her eyes to the kind person. It was a tall man- a boy really. He couldn't have been much older than herself. He had broad shoulders and dark blond hair that fell into his eyes. He looked concerned. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Laire quickly asessed the damage. Her face was on fire, raging from the blows. Her arm was in pain as well, having being twisted right around by the guards. She wouldn't admit that to anyone though, so she shrugged her shoulders lightly. Then she smiled shyly.

* * *

The Prince felt his face stretch into a smile when the girl did. He didn't know what it was, but her gentle smile made him feel light inside.

He had nearly dozed off, sitting in a small throne watching the gypsies being searched. This girl had been one of the last ones through, and he found himself listening to her protests. Then he had watched the guards attack her; not that she didn't deserve it. Her spirit was interesting. No one had ever stood up to the guards before. He was enjoying the show quite well, actually. He had felt the need to intervene before they killed her. That was just the sort of thing his father didn't want. But he didn't think his father would like him being kind to the gypsies either.

"Do you not know it is customary to curtsey before royalty?" He asked forcefully, wrenching his hand from the gypsy girl's arm. Her sharp eyes immediatly darkened.

"I am sorry, _Highness_. I did not know. I'm just an ignorant gypsy, after all," she said frostily.

"Well now you know, and I expect you to," he stated. It was plain and simple, and he wanted that courtesy. After all, he had just helped her.

"Marry me, Jayson!" One of the girls pressed up against the palace gates shrieked at him, waving a large banner. He rolled his eyes disconsolately, and kept looking at the gypsy girl, waiting for some acknowledgement.

"You stuck-up prig!" The girl snapped. "You want me to curtsey for you? After all that your family has done to mine? Well I will not. It is time you stopped being so power loving." With that, the girl marched off without so much as a backwards glance.

The Prince was suprised he felt hurt. The gypsy girl was strange; she had made him smile when he could hardly stand to be near a girl. Maybe she was right not curtsey to him. Her kind had never been treated nicely before. Although he had never met anyone with as much disdain for him. He suddenly wanted very badly to apoligise.

That was not to be, however. One of the servants came up to him and told him that the King wanted him.

It was not has bad as he thought. His father just shouted at him a bit about being irresponsible. His mother shrieked about him standing up for 'rotten, gypsy filth.' It was not as bad as he had at first anticipated.

But then came the bad part. His father sent a servant to fetch the strange gypsy girl.

* * *

Logan and Laire were sitting in the corner of the small courtyard. She was holding a cold cloth to her stinging face, while her friend chattered away. "Gosh, Larkspur. I can't even belive you. Standing up to those guards like that, and then talking back to the Prince! Wow. You really showed them. I wish I could have done that."

Laire shook her head. "I shouldn't have. I really regret that. It was fun while it lasted, Sparrow. But in the long run it will do me no good. I mean, what will happen when the king learns?"

"You are about to find out," came a bold voice. Laire turned around to see a maid watching them. "Beg pardon miss," the maid said. "The King has sent for you. I am to bring you to him."

Laire felt her stomach turn over. This was not good at all. Logan stood up with her and made to walk with them. "Keep out of this, Sparrow. I don't want you involved."

The maid shooed him away as well. "The King just wants her. I don't think he would be to pleased with anyone if you came. No offense, sir."

It was the grandest building Laire had ever set foot in. In fact, it was the first building she had ever been in. The gypsies had never been invited into a structure of any sort. Her bare feet were freezing on the tile floor, and she felt very out of place in her simple, patchwork clothes.

The polite little maid stopped in front of a large double door. Two guards stood on either side of it. And,unfortunately, one of them was the guard called Doigson. The guard smirked. "Well, well, well. The filth is finally going to learn a lesson. I'll take it from here, maid." He reached out his large hand and yanked on her sore arm roughly. "Come on girl. Time to meet the King."

When Doigson pushed open the door, Laire prayed that she would melt. She was directly across from the evil king and queen. Both were staring at her accusingly. Standing beside them was the Prince. She had yelled at him before.

Her stomach was churning. She couldn't. She wouldn't. The guard dragged her forward, cutting off her circulation below the elbow. He shoved her down on the tile floor- a sort of forced curtsey. Laire stayed crouched on the floor. She didn't want to have to look face to face with King Vosgras.

"You have broken the rules that keep your kind in check. You have mistreated the guards and talked back to the Prince. You broke the code, and now you are fouling up my floors. You were never meant to be here, and you shouldn't be now. You are just a rotten peice of garbage. What right you have to be on this earth I do not know."

Laire felt her anger begin to bottle up inside of her as the king spoke. She was trying very hard not to explode and yell at the king as she had the guards. It wasn't working. She didn't yell though. "I have every right to be here as you do," she said, keeping her head down.

Queen Ariellea flew off the handle this time. "You insolent wench! How dare you suggest such a thing? To my husband! Guards! Guards!"

Laire raised her head slightly, glancing wildly at the many guards that had converged around her.

The queen wasn't finished. "Someone take this _gypsy _away. The dungeons. One week. No food or water. Lets see how the rubbish survives."

Several pairs of hands grabbed her and started dragging her out of the hall forcefully. Laire was being ripped apart. What a time to come out of her shell. Why couldn't she have stayed the shy lady she had once been? Why did she have to open her mouth?

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the Prince arguing with the Queen. She couldn't hear what was being said, as one of the burly guards had her by her ear. _Please let it stop_, she thought in her head. _Just make the pain go away._


	2. Chapter 2

"You can't do this mother! She's a person like anyone else!" Prince Jayson was arguing, pleading with his mother. He had never before been so angry with her.

"I am Queen! I can do what I like. And how can you suggest that a gypsy is a person? She is just dirt beneath my feet and should be for you. "

"No! I can't let you Mother. I am in charge of them. I should take care of it."

"You should have thought of that before this happened! You need to think more about your actions! Go to your room."

"I won't."

"Don't you act like a spoiled brat, Jayson. You will be Crown Prince in seven days. I suggest you start acting like it. Now go."

The Prince hung his head in defeat and slunk out of the room. He almost didn't notice the small maid waiting by the door. "Oh, Your Highness! You were brilliant!" The girl cried out. Then she raised her hand to her mouth and curtseyed low. "Beg pardon, Your Highness. I forgot my place."

"No matter," he sighed. Then a spark lit in his mind "Can you help me with something?"

"That's what I am here for, Your Highness. What would you like?"

"Well first off, what is your name?"

The maid looked shocked at this question. "I-I am not supposed to tell anyone, Your Highness. Her Royal Majesty, the Queen insists that no one should know the servants names."

"Well, I am the Prince, and I want to know."

"It is Meggie, Your Highness. Meggie Valorite."

"Please Meggie. Call me Jayson. Do you know that gypsy girl's name?"

The maid was stammering, and was quite suprised at being addressed so informally by the Prince. "Someone at the gypsy camp was calling her Larkspur, Your Highness."

"Thank you. Now, here's what I would like you to do." He summoned the maid closer, and the two set off along the the corridor, looking for a place where they could not easily be heard.

* * *

Laire was in serious pain. She felt like she had been scalded in a vat of oil, then tied to two horses and stretched. There was not one part of her body that felt normal. Everything ached. This cold stone floor she was lying on wasn't helping anything. She struggled up on one elbow and glanced around. She was surrounded by a freezing, dark stone. Every surface was covered with it, aside from the metal bars that was the door. It was the most barren place she had ever been in; without even a bench to sit upon or a window to look out of. It was lonely.

"Larkspur?" Laire felt the weight on her chest lift a bit hearing her nickname being called. She didn't turn around, but she had to ask. "How did you get in here Sparrow?"

"Who is Sparrow?" Asked a voice that was definitely not that of her friend. Laire gasped and turned around. The Prince was standing at the door of her cell, staring uncomfortably at her.

"Your Highness!" Laire spluttered. "I thought you were Spa- um, no one."

"I ask again, who is this Sparrow you refer to?"

Laire suppressed the urge to call the Prince a nasty name. Her tongue had gotten her into enough trouble today. "If you must know, Sparrow is the only one who ever calls me Larkspur."

She smirked when she saw the confusion on the Prince's face. "Is that not your name?"

"No. Now what do you want?" She was really getting annoyed with these ignorant royals. Again, she struggled to keep that thought to herself.

"I have come to check on you. To see how you are doing."

She snorted. "Come to gloat, have you? Want to know if I am dead yet? Well here's news for you- I am _this_ close to collapsing right now, after that beating."

The Prince looked so disraught. "No! That isn't true. I am not my mother you know. I actually care about people."

Laire frowned. She didn't know if she wanted to hear this or not. She just turned back around and set her cheek on the stone wall.

The Prince kept talking. "The guards hurt you? They shouldn't be doing that. I mean, you shouldn't even be in here. I tried to get Mother to change her mind, but she is really stubborn when she wants to be. No one really likes gypsies around here- no offence. That just means that Mother won't be eager to let you out."

Laire bit her lip hard to stop from tossing out an insult. She didn't want to risk another comment. But she so wanted to put this Prince in his place. And the heir to the throne just kept babbling on and on about her situation.

"Shut up!" She finally cried out. And the Prince stopped too, which was something she had not expected. He looked at her in shock. Laire could tell he had never been told that before. She acted quickly upon that. "Just shut up and go away. I don't need your heartless sympathy. You don't even care." She turned back to the wall again, and wouldn't speak. She felt slightly happier getting it off her chest, and the metal bars would keep him from striking her as everyone else had.

She heard him splutter a bit, but he finally gave up and walked back down the long corridor. She wasn't alone for long. A few long minutes later someone else came walking down the hall. It was a small maid carrying a tray laden with food, which was slid under Laire's cell door. She stared at it in confusion. "What is this for?" She asked the maid. "I thought I was supposed to starve in here."

The maid beamed. "That is what the Queen wanted. This food comes from the Prince."

Laire frowned. No matter how tempting the food looked, she was not going to touch it. She would not give the Prince that satisfaction. "Take it away, please," she told the maid. She turned back to the now familiar wall and concentrated on memorizing every crack in the rock. She listened to the maids footsteps click off down the hall again. More footsteps sounded through the corridor. Laire muttered a curse. She was getting tired of these interuptions.

"Larkspur?" Laire stood up and whipped around. "You know, Princley," she started to shout, but stopped abruptly. "Sparrow!" She cried. This time it really was her friend calling to her. She rushed to the bars and grasped Logan's hand, ignoring the pain that was shooting down her leg.

"You look awful, Lark. What did they do to you?"

Laire groaned. "Guards are stupid. They yanked me to this dungeon like I was a dog. I'm not supposed to eat, but the Prince is delivering me cakes. Apparently the bratty kid is on our side."

Logan whistled. "So, do you want to get out or what?"

* * *

"... And so the five counterparts to Runeous were given both equal status and rights in the commanding of their districts. The Golden Causeway looks after the Maracle Ocean, and the various lakes and rivers in this great land. The rulers of Lucknow Grove control the forests, including Insurgo and Happeri. The mountain range, Drovestugn, is protected by the Archdukes and duchesses of Martinguesture, and the farmlands by the lords and ladies of Dunmire Fen. Siyha is the last city formed, and by which is given the problems that are cast off from the High City. It is also situated on the outmost edges of this great land, and by so, fixated on the darkness. The emperors and empresses of Siyha are dark as shadows, while the princesses and princes of the Golden Causeway are pale was moonlight on water..."

The Prince sat in the extravagant library, flipping through a history book while his tutor, Enrick, droned on and on about things that Jayson already knew.

_"What? You imcompetent fools! How could you let this happen? Seal the city! Search the camp! Send out the dogs!"_

Prince Jayson looked up from his book. His mother was yelling, as usual. This sounded more intense than spoiled food or broken hairbrushes, though. He waved a hand at Enrick, dismissing his tutor and strode down to the Throne Room.

The Queen was pacing in front of a line of guards, shrieking and waving her hands in the air.

"Mother! What happened?" He shouted over the noise.

"What happened?" Queen Ariella whipped around and fixed a steely glare on her son.** "_What happened?_** The gypsy escaped from the dungeons, that's what! Search parties! Now!"

The Prince gave a silent cheer. He was on the gypsy girl's side. He hadn't wanted her to be thrown in the dungeon in the first place.

"Son!" The queen was shrieking again. "You were in charge of the rubbish! You must find the girl! And be back here in time for your ball tonight!"

The Prince frowned. Ball-shmall. He would rather muck out all the horse stalls than go to that crazy thing. He also didn't want to go off searching the city for the gypsy girl. If she was smart enough to escape from the dungeon, she was certainly clever enough to aviod a handful of guards in a big city.

He would rather tramp around the city than be pampered by his butler, though. He decided he would start at the scene of the crime.

When he and a guard escort reached the dungeon, the Prince was shocked. The bars of the cell weren't damaged. The lock was intact, no bars were bent, and it was still shut tight.

There was no way on earth that anyone could have escaped.

* * *

"I am so glad I'm a small person," Laire muttered as she and he friend slunk out of the dungeon. One side of her leg was scraped raw, and the bruise on her cheek was purpling again, but she had a wide grin on her face.

It had been Logan's idea for her to squeeze through the cell bars. They were spaced quite close together, but being the skinny person Laire was, she could fit.

Now they were slipping out of the doors and into the fresh air. Laire thought she would burst. She had just escaped from a dungeon. Although she didn't want to spend more time in that cell, she was positve that no one would be happy with her. The other gypsies at the camp were upset enough with her for making trouble, and were even more so upset by the fact she was thrown in the dungeon, Logan said. And the king and queen were not the sort to let this type of thing slide.

She was quite right. For just the instant that thought crossed her mind, a shout rang out. Logan and Laire whipped around to see a group of guards racing for them, spears in hand. She heard Logan utter an oath that would put a sailor to shame. Then, not a word spoken between them, the two gypsies ran for it. Laire didn't know where she was going, just that she wanted to get there fast.

She whipped around a corner, jumped over a low wall and ducked behind a flowering bush. Luckily the guards ran the other way. Laire lept out from behind the bush and crept around another. Logan was stumbling behind her; he had never been the most athletic person. "Keep up Sparrow," she hissed. "Are you not as flighty as your name?"

Logan started muttering back at her, but Laire quickly shushed him. The were in the castle garden, which means it was only natural there was gardeners. And the gardeners were right there ahead of them, pruning away at shrubs and mulching flower beds.

"What will we do now?" Logan hissed in her ear.

"Quiet. I'm thinking." A plan was quickly forming in her mind. She reached up to a large oak branch and swung herself agiley up. Her friend scrambled up beside her.

Laire scouted around looking for another branch. Together they jumped from one tree to another; branch to branch. The only one moment of fear was when her foot had kicked an apple from it's secure home up in the tree. The crooked old gardener had glanced up a moment, but his aged eyes could not distinguish their shapes.

Laire's heart sang out with joy when the two reached the edge of the wall. This was it! She was going to be out of that wretched place once and for all. Still, she didn't let out her breath until her feet were firmly planted on the green grass on the other side of the wall.

"Where to now?" Logan inquired, wiping his sweaty brow. Laire glared at her friend.

"I thought you had a plan."

"Well, I did. Before. We were going to go back to the camp in the courtyard, or the dwelling in the woods."

Laire was puzzled at this. Surely they could just go back and lead their semi-normal lives. Logan was staring intensely at her, so she thought harder. When it dawned on her it felt like her heart had been ripped apart. Of course they couldn't waltz back to the gypsy camp. Those evil monarchs would be searching for her. Going back would mean trouble for all of them.

"But Mama and Kently and Old Darius-" she trailed off.

"Darius is the one who told me to get you. He said he would hold down the fort at camp while we ran for it. We can't come back here Laire."

It had been so long since Logan had called her by her given name it startled her. The seriousness was finally sinking in. With a heavy heart she slunk along the wall with her friend. They were heading to the woods first. They were looking for an exiled medicine woman who lived there. Darius had told Logan she would help them.

_Free now,_Laire thought to herself, but she knew that she could never truly be free.

"Oi! Hold up there!"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks again to _Serenity T. Gapurn_, my lady with the red pen. To _Mint Tea Rose_ and _GeminiAngel236_, thanks for your lovely reviews. _GeminiAngel_: Laire got her nickname because she fell into a patch of larkspur flowers when she was young, and Logan has always been fascinated by birds. Thatnks for pointing that out! I had thought for sure I put that in there. Anyways, on with the show!

* * *

Without a glance back or a word spoken, the fugitives ran for it. They were running for their lives. For being caught would be the same as being killed. And they both recognized the voice that had shouted, and they both fled from the footfalls crashing behind them. It was the worst of all possible things. The heir to the throne, the majestic ruler to be, royal pain in the rear end, the Prince was chasing after them.

"Wait up! I just want to talk!" The Prince was farther behind, and gasping for breath.

Laire rolled her eyes. Like the kid wanted to have a chat with them. There were probably a handful of guards waiting for them to stop. She had not gone this far just to be caught again. No way, no how was she slowing down. In response she ran faster; so fast she was almost flying. She was not going back.

They didn't stop running until they were deep in the forest. Actually, stop was not an accurate word to use. Collapsing on the ground gasping for breath and clutching their sides would be a better phrase to put in that spot, for that is what they did. It was many minutes before they finally managed to get up from the ground and begin speaking again.

"Tha-at was-hard," Laire gasped. Logan gave a slight nod, still panting to get air in his lungs.

"Now what is all this noise acomin' to me place?"

The two looked up at the strange person standing next to them. She was an old, grizzled woman with colourful, patched clothes and large apron with many pockets. Her grey hair was swept up with a kerchief and a questioning stare arranged on her face.

Logan spoke up. "Erm, are you Tauli Malollart?" The woman's gaze softened. "Aye. And who might you being?" "Logan Hickory, mam, and this is my friend Laire Maize. Darius Ixon sent us to find you. He said you would help."

Laire was looking back and forth between the two, thoroughly confused, as Logan had not shared any of his plans with her.

The strange Ms. Malollart tossed her head with disdain. "Darius said that, did he? That old goat. Well, I'm aguessin' that I'm not having a choice now. Step along."

Laire and Logan followed the gypsy woman to a small thatched hut by a stream. It was very picturesque, with the clothesline flapping in the breeze and a tendril of smoke curling out from the chimney.

"Well, here we be. Now, what did Darius a send you for?"

Laire looked at Logan. "Well, Sparrow? What is your brilliant scheme?"

"Ms. Malollart-" The old woman beamed, revealing a mouth full of chipped teeth. "It would aplease me more if you call me Tauli. None o' this fancy 'Ms' stuff."

Logan cleared his throat. Laire could tell he was getting uncomfortable. She herself was taken aback at the odd personality Tauli Malollart had.

"You see Ms-I mean Tauli. We are from the Perdan Clan, and we were summoned to Runeous to perform for the festivities. And, Laire, she, well..." Logan trailed off and looked at his friend, a pained expression on his face. After many years of friendship, they had learned to 'talk' with their eyes. So Laire could tell roughly what Logan was thinking now; _What do I say now? It wasn't me who was locked up. _

Tauli broke the silence. "Well, missie? What coulda ya done to come alookin' for me?"

Laire brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I might have mouthed of to a couple of royal folk and got myself locked in the dungeon."

Tauli's response was completely beyond anything Laire could have expected. The old woman leapt from her perch on a stump and started doing a strange jig. Then she rushed up to Laire and started shaking her hand feverishly. "Well done, me girl! Well done! That is exactly what I a did, 'cept they banished me to these here woods, not throwed me in a cell. Oh, well done! Tell me, what did you a say?"

Laire couldn't help chuckling, and proceeded to tell her tale to Tauli. That brought on another bout of cheers from the elderly gypsy.

"Well," exclaimed Tauli, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes."Darius certainly was right to send yous to me. I haven't a heard a story by the like o' that in over a score! Now what are yous needin' from little ol' me, hmm?"

Logan spoke up again. "Maybe a place to stay for a while? Just until we can think of something to do."

Tauli beamed. "O'course me loves! Come a right in, and ol' Tauli will keep yous safe."

They spent a pleasant evening in Tauli's hut, talking, laughing and carrying on as if they had been friends all of their lives. Tauli had many entertaining stories to tell (many of them involving verbal sparring matches with Lords of the Court, and running off with priceless items of the palace. They ate a large salad filled with 'the goodness of this here earth', as Tauli put it. It was well past midnight before they all retired to the handmade bracken beds.

"Laire girl! Wake up!" Laire sat up and blinked her eyes. Tauli was shaking her frantically and hissing in her ear.

"Tauli? Wha-"

"No time. Now a git over here and a keep quiet!" Laire quickly followed her new found friend over to the fireplace. "Hustle yous self up there, Tauli whispered, and gestured up the chimney. "Yous friend is already a waitin, so just a lay on the roof and a keep still."

Laire quickly darted under the mantle, and to her surprise found a chain ladder hanging down the length of the chimney. She scrambled up it as fast as she could and dragged the ladder behind her when she reached the roof. Logan was already up there, and Laire followed his lead in laying flat on the thatched straw roof. From that vantage point, she could see what Tauli had been so anxious about.

There were several fancy horses, and members of the royal guard surrounding the little house. One large man was pounding his beefy fist on the door and shouting. "We know you are in there! You cannot hide from us! Just come out quickly and no harm will befall you!"

Tauli flung open the door, looking more crazed than usual. "Whadda yous mean, awakin' a poor old woman in her a sleep? Is the a somethin' yous are a needin' from me?"

"We have come to inquire about two runaway gypsies. One of them escaped from the royal dungeons. Have you seen anything?"

Laire looked frantically at Logan. His face mirrored exactly what she felt; terrified and ill. They needn't have worried, though. Tauli laughed in the guards face. "Yous can't have such good of security to have a gypsy escape from yous! Nay, I've not a seen a thing like that. Good day, or I should a say, good night to yous. " The woman slammed the door in the guards face and started cackling like a ninny.

The sentinel seemed to think Tauli was insane. "She is just a mad old gypsy. She wouldn't be able to tell those runaways from a parsnip on her table!" All of the guards laughed at that, but sobered at once. "Come along men," the leader shouted, "or the king will have our heads as well!" Then they all marched off, leaving nothing but trampled grass as a symbol of their being at Ms. Malollart's.

Laire and Logan scrambled back down the chimney as soon as the last hoof beats stopped ringing through the trees. "Did yous a hear that? Wasn't me a brilliant?" Tauli was smiling her crooked grin again, but even that did nothing to raise Laire's spirits. "I heard you, Tauli, but I also heard those guards. They said the king would have their heads _as well_. We are going to **die**!"

Tauli smiled wider. "But only if yous a get caught. And yous won't. But yous will have to a leave here. Those fools will be a trampin' to me place every so often just to a see. And that ol' roof couldn't a take it."

Logan's jaw dropped. "You are kicking us out?"

"O course not. Me legs ain't a what they used to be. I'll just be pushin' yous out the door is all." Her gaze softened. " I really am a sorry, loves. But them a guards ain't completely witless. I can a tell yous where to go, though. A follow that stream upriver and when you get to Opuka, find the Clever Crusader's Alehouse and ask for Felix Fortune. Tells him ol' Tauls a sent yous."

* * *

"Your Highness? Is there something on your mind?"

Prince Jayson glanced up from the stupor he was in. These balls really were boring! Nothing but a bunch of plump, prissy girls shoved into frilly dresses coming u pand asking him to dance. It was dreadfully annoying. He had taken to sitting in his throne with a frown plastered on his face. He voiced these thoughts to the person who had spoken, his page, Terrence.

The boy laughed. "You certainly are an odd one, Your Highness. I would give anything to be in your shoes, and have all the girls in the kingdom after me."

Prince Jayson grimaced. "Do you even know what some of those girls are like? Take Princess Leticia of Drinchel. She doesn't have a single brain cell. She just giggles all of the time. And Princess Elizabeta of Corianders Reef? The only thing she eats is chocolate. Chocolate cake, chocolate milk, chocolate stew, chocolate slabs... Her parents are practically going broke shipping over to Azchute for it all."

Terrence laughed again. "I guess you made your point, Your Highness. Now I don't blame you."

"What have I told you about not bothering with those fancy titles? You can just call me Jay." Terrence shrugged. "Old habits are hard to break. Besides, there are dozens of nobles around. What would they think if they heard me call you by just your name-nay, a nickname?"

It was the Prince's turn to shrug. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a shriek. His mother's shriek. None of the ball goers even flinched. They were all used to the queen's outbursts. Prince Jayson stood up. "I had best go and see what it is this time. It is more exciting than sitting around here. Thank you for cheering me up, Terrence. I will be sure to put in a good word for you to Princess Leticia."

The Prince crossed the room quickly, hugging the wall so to avoid the clusters of girls. His mother and father were in the Throne Room off the ballroom, talking with a crowd of guards. He sighed. "What is it now, mother?"

Queen Ariella looked furious. Well, she usually did, but this seemed worse than usual. She seemed beyond coherent speech, so King Vosgras answered for her. "These incompetent _fools_ let those gypsies get away _again_! They slipped right through their fingers! _This_ close to capturing those _troublemakers_, and they missed it!" Then to the guards he yelled, "Thirty lashes! All of you! And if you are still alive, your sole task will be tracking down that gypsy girl and her cohort!"

One tall man with a handlebar mustache stepped forward and bowed low. "Your Majesty, I did catch where they were going. They were headed to the Clever Crusader's Alehouse in Opuka."

King Vosgras nodded. "Good. Go now. And do not come back unless you have that worthless wench in tow!"

* * *

Please press that lonely little button! He wants someone to leave me a review. I baked a batch of monster chocolate chip cookies for anyone who does!


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to my reviewers: you make all the difference! And to my friend Ally. She was kind enough to post the links to all the costumes I found for my characters onto her profile page (AllisonKat) Also, an interesting tidbit, Laire Maize is an anagram for Realize Aim. I think that is really cool, because that is kind of what Laire has to do throughout the story.

* * *

Laire felt completely lost. It was bad enough being kicked out of a comfortable place in the middle of the night. She also had to wind her way through trees in the dark knowing that there was now a bounty on her head. Or, so the guards said. Reading between the lines there might be, but the guards were not the shiniest apples in the bunch from Laire's previous experience.

"How much farther to Opuka?" Logan whispered into Laire's ear. She shrugged.

"We are just to follow the river to the Clever Crusaders Alehouse. She failed to mention how far away it was." There was a long silence, then a twig snapped. Laire rolled her eyes.

"Never learned to be silent, huh?" She hissed irritably. Her friend slowed in his tracks.

"I thought that was you!"

Laire took a deep breath. "Then who was..."

"Charge!"

For the third time within twenty-four hours, Laire was running for her life, the footfalls of Royal Guards pounding behind her. She thought her legs would give out after the endless relaxing and running and resting and racing. But it was mind over matter now, and her mind was screaming at her legs to get moving.

She didn't know how far they were pursued, but it wasn't very long. The guards' pounding footsteps died out soon. Laire and Logan didn't stop running, though. Neither felt safe enough to do so.

It was many miles of travel before the river branched off, and widened into a shining blue lake, glistening in the evening sun. Laire sighed with contentedness when she spotted the crumbling alehouse. A rickety sign bore the name of the place, and although it didn't look like much, she felt relief in knowing they had reached yet another safe place.

She and Logan glanced at each other and set off around the lake towards the Clever Crusaders. It wasn't a very long walk, as the mere was quite small. They trudged up the packed gravel lane to the door. It nearly fell off the hinges as Logan swung it open.

A tall, skinny man in a dirty leather apron scrambled up to them.

"Dear guests! Care for a drink? A Passionate Exorcist, perhaps? Or would a Fatal Gray catch your fancy? The Murder Trap is a favorite. What will it be?"

Laire and Logan exchanged a look. Neither had a note on them. Tentatively, Laire spoke up.

"Do you have anything that would be free?"

The bartender rolled his eyes. "Now lassie, do you think I would be having a business if I just gave stuff away? Besides, I'm having enough trouble with the markets as they are. No, you'll just pay for your drinks or have naught at all." With that, the man crossed his spindly arms and huffed.

Logan stepped forward. "Well then, could you just direct us to Felix Fortune?"

The man arched one long, oily eyebrow and glared at them. "I am he. What do- Hang on. Are you from the government? Because I'm not aiming to pay those taxes until the prices go down. So you can just march your slimy selves back up to the castle and tell that to the King himself!"

Laire was shocked. This was the person Tauli thought would help them? He seemed more concerned about his own being than helping others.

Again, it was level headed Logan who broke the silence. "We're- just travellers, looking for a place to stay. Tauli Malollart said you would help, but obviously..." Logan trailed off and stared accusingly at Felix Fortune. The man glared back, searching their faces looking for something like recognition. Then he leaned back.

"Ah!_Tauli_ sent you. Come one upstairs. All the rooms are free right now, so you can take your pick. And I might have some biscuits left from my dinner you can have."

Logan and Laire shared another look, then started up the rickety stairs behind Felix. Then Laire stopped short. Felix didn't notice, but Logan did. "What is it?" He whispered. Laire pointed a shaking finger at a battered poster on the wall. A wanted poster.

Laire quickly strode across the room and ripped the poster off the wall. She stuffed it into her bodice and started back up the stairs. She shook Logan's elbow, as he was standing frozen, still staring at the wall where the poster had been.

Once at the top of the steep staircase, Felix gestured at two rooms. "This one for the lovely lady," he announced, pointing at the first door from the staircase, "and this one for the gentleman," he ended, directing to a room two doors down the hall. "I will bring you dinners soon."

'Soon' turned out to be forty-five minutes later. It didn't matter much, though. Laire and Logan were too preoccupied with examining the poster that Laire had ripped off the wall. It was a wanted poster, alright. With their faces drawn faintly but accurately in the center.

"Maisie," Logan growled. Laire understood what he meant. Maisie Delacro was the best artist in their gypsy clan, and happened to be the one who had drawn the pictures. It didn't matter if Maisie had been coerced into drawing the profiles or not, but she had drawn them, and that made the two runaways angry. Of all things to be mad about, they were mad that a friend had contributed to their wanted posters.

Laire snorted. " 'Offering five thousand notes for information'? We aren't vicious criminals! So I said a few things I shouldn't have. So you busted me out of the dungeon. We aren't killing anybody!" Logan patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"But this is King Vosgras we're talking about," he said. "He hates gypsies more than ticks on a throne. Our _dear_ king just needed an excuse to lash out. Believe me, if it wasn't this, he would have arrested one of the clan for sneezing too hard or something."

Laire sighed. "I know. But it just isn't right! What's wrong with gypsies? We're people too, just like that pompous old windbag on the throne. I-" She was cut off by footsteps creaking up the stairs. Logan grabbed the poster and stuffed it under the musty pillow, and sat on it just before Felix Fortune opened the door to bring in a tray of baked potatoes. He looked surprised to see the both of them in the same room.

"Is the room not to your liking?" He wheezed, looking at Logan strangely.

"Oh, it's fine sir," Logan said. "Laire and I just wanted to talk, is all." But Felix Fortune didn't seem to need an answer, and hurriedly set the tray on the crooked table, before rushing out the door.

Laire walked over and peered at the tray. The bartender obviously didn't have much for cutlery. There were two mismatching, rusty forks, a steak knife and a butter knife. Logan shrugged and bypassed the cutlery all together and just ripped off a piece of the steamy potato and popped it in his mouth. Laire instead picked up the steak knife and examined it carefully. Deeming it acceptable, she quickly wiped it on her patchwork skirt and twisted it in her hair. Logan stared at her, slack-jawed.

"What the-"

"You might see it a a simple food eating device, but I see a handy defense and survival tool."

Logan shrugged. "What ever you say, Larkspur. Say, I wouldn't touch the food if I were you. It tastes a bit off."

Laire glared at the platter of food. She had been so hungry. But she didn't want to get sick from the food either, so she decided to pass. Logan walked over to the bed and collapsed onto it. "Do you mind if I take a nap?" He asked. Laire nodded, not really paying attention. She was staring at the wanted poster, her heart heavy. She was perched on the end of the bed looking at it until night fell.

She stood up, stretched, and shook Logan's shoulder, trying to wake him. "Come on, sleepyhead," she muttered. "This was supposed to be _my _bed." It was no use. Logan was dead to the world. She shook her head, and started out of the room. "I guess I'll just be staying in your room, then."

Laire walked down the darkened hallway and silently entered the room that was meant to be Logan's.

By the little moonlight coming through the window, she managed to light the oil lamp. With the lamp, she could navigate to the bed, but she found she could not sleep. Laire sighed and walked over to the window. It looked so peaceful outside. It was mainly dark, save for a few light light further down the road. The lake glittered in the faint moonlight, and the trees rustled in the breeze.

She sat in front of the window for a long time. She had nearly drifted offwhen she heard the noises. Noises that should not have been breaking the stillness of the night.

It started with the thumping footsteps on the staircase, then the hurried whispers and the bang of a door. She had jumped up and pulled the steak knife from her hair by the time the door to the room opened.

With a deep breath, she slammed the handle of the knife onto the intruder's skull. Then, without missing a beat, she pulled open the window and leapt out. Even though it was a third storey window, she still managed to land without a scratch; her many years of tree climbing paying off. Then she took off running-straight into the glistening lake. Her lithe body hardly made a ripple as she waded into deeper water. She kept going until only her eyes and nose were above the water level, so she could still be aware of what was going on, but be hidden at the same time.

When Laire turned around, she marvelled that she had been able to escape from the window without being spotted. About a dozen soldiers of sorts had surrounded the Alehouse, and two black stagecoaches stood at the base of the road. Then the door to the crumbling alehouse opened, and Laire's heart sank like a stone in the sea. They had Logan.

* * *

"Crown Princess Arachne duVixienna of the Golden Crossway!"

"Lady Muirial Aberdeen of Dunmire Fen!"

"Archduchess Aurélie Beuvaise of Maringesture!"

"Maharani Ce Sanjukta of Lucknow Grove! "

"Empress Zahira Mourne of Sihya!"

Prince Jayson buried his face in his hands. More girls. His mother had decided he needed companionship. Jayson had suggested getting a dog. His mother had other plans. She sent messengers to each of the five biggest cities in the country and summoned the prettiest, wealthiest and most eligible maidens in each of them. So, it was now that he found himself sitting at the dinner table while the various noble girls filed in. They arranged themselves accordingly, that is, they were seated as the Queen wanted them to.

Jayson noted dully that Princess Arachne, the richest of them, and Archduchess Aurélie, the fairest, were seated on opposite sides of him. Not that he cared.

The next ten minutes were very painful. It was evident that the girls had been instructed to only speak when spoken to, and Prince Jayson wasn't saying anything.

"Your highness?"

Jayson looked up to see Terrence, his page and trusted friend, standing over him.

"You are needed in the courtyard."

"Thank God."

"They caught one of the rouge gypsies."

"Damn."


	5. Chapter 5

There was a sudden rush of noise as Empress Zahira dropped her water goblet, Lady Murial dropped her fork, and Archduchess Aurélie gasped. At first, Prince Jayson thought they were just surprised that a gypsy had been captured, but when he saw Terrence trying to hold back laughter, he understood. These noble girls were very delicate, and were not used to hearing swearing, no matter how light it may be.

"Forgive me, ladies," he said tonelessly, pushing back his chair. "I have some business to attend to. Feel free to finish your meals. Good day." The the Prince hurried out of the room without a backward glance.

"Thanks for saving me, Terrence, but did it have to be bad news that you brought?"

Terrence looked at him strangely before setting off down the corridor. "It is bad news? I would have thought you would be overjoyed that one of the gypsies was captured."

Jayson started spluttering. "What? You know I don't- really now..." He stopped at the sarcastic grin on Terrence's face, and playfully punched him on the shoulder. Terrence collapsed on the ground in mock pain. "Ah! The royalty does smite me where I stand!"

Jayson snorted, then reached over to pull his friend up off of the ground. "You should be nicer to me, you know. I am going to be crowned in four days, so -- hang on. Did you say only one of the runaways was caught?"

The page rolled his eyes. "Were you not listening the first time? Yeah, just the boy was captured. Suppose you're overjoyed at that. You did take a shine to the gal. Here we are now." Then Terrence took a step forward and opened the door to the courtyard. "Announcing Prince Jayson Caros Kayd deRegalis."

Jayson summoned every ounce of regalness he could, and marched into the large garden. It was as he expected: his parents, with their many attendants standing around them, the poor gypsy boy, cowering in chains, with the Royal Guards surrounding him. Except it wasn't the Royal Guards that had subdued the captive. Jayson felt his jaw drop. What were the Stealth Slashers doing? The deadly assassins used only for spying and battles had been sent out for a couple of rogue gypsies?

"Ah, son. You made it," King Vosgras boomed. He looked the happiest he had been in days, though still slightly put out. Queen Ariella looked quite cheerful as well, and she summoned Jayson over to stand next to her.

"Look darling," she purred in his ear. "We got one of them. Isn't it lovely?"

"Mother, why were the Stealth Slashers called in? I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

The Queen looked affronted. "Why, son. We couldn't let two trouble makers run loose in the kingdom, and the Royal Guards were just not up to the job. And it payed off, didn't it?" She looked at the cowering gypsy like one might look upon a sick horse in a stable. "It is a little scrawny, but I think it could work in the fields or the kitchens just fine. After you father interrogates it, of course. Now hush, child."

Jayson felt sick to his stomach. His mother talked about the gypsy boy as if he were simply a new table or dish. It wasn't fair.

"Gypsy," the king rumbled. "Did you or did you not free the rubbish from the royal dungeon?"

The captive looked bewildered. "You keep your garbage in the dungeon? Why would I touch your leftovers?"

"Fool!" the king bellowed. "Don't talk back to your king. I was talking about your little cohort."

"Oh, you mean Larkspur? Well, I didn't exactly free her, so much as tell her how to get out."

"And how would that be? Do you know something that even the Royal Guard does not?"

"I know that the bars are spaced far enough apart that a small person can squeeze through with no trouble." The boy was mumbling now, looking at his feet. Jayson was incredibly amused. His father however, was not.

"Gypsy, you are sentenced to one year hard labour in the wheat fields of Runeous. Any trouble, and you will be executed without question. Now get out of my sight. "

Jayson let out the breath he had not noticed he was holding as the guards dragged the gypsy boy out of the courtyard. That sentence wasn't too bad; at least lighter than he would have expected from his father.

Queen Ariella noticed that the sentence was light as well. "Darling," she whispered silkily. "Why did you not kill it on the spot? The thing has proved that it is trouble."

King Vosgras put his hand around his wife's waist. "Dear, if the gypsy is out in the fields, the other one will want to save it. It is simply bait until we catch the real troublemaker."

Jayson tried to keep his cool. This was _wrong_.

"Ahem."

Jayson's head snapped up to see an oily looking man, wringing his hands and staring at the king and queen like they were twin bags of gold.

"Felix Fortune," King Vosgras announced. "You have done the Crown a great service in giving us the information needed to capture one of the miscreants."

The oily man, Felix Fortune, bowed humbly, yet Jayson saw the gleam in his eye. "It was nothing, your majesties. Nothing at all."

The king raised his voice. "Yet, it still only lead to _one_ of them being brought to my feet."

Felix Fortune shrank a bit. "I'm not understanding it, your most royal of majesties. The other one was supposed to be in the room the boy was in. And the Stealth Slasher that was sent to the other room was unconsious, and there was no gypsy in sight."

King Vosgras raised one eyebrow, and motioned for an attendant. "Make sure that Stealth Slasher is whipped," he stated to the servant, who bowed and hurried away. "You will still be presented with the promised reward."

Jayson shook his head in dismay as yet another servant rushed up with a bag of gold pieces and gave it to Felix Fortune. The man had an ugly leer on his wretched face.

* * *

Laire shivered. It could have been from the cold. Her damp clothing was pressed to her thin body, and water rolled off her hair in rivulets. She had stood in the lake long after Logan had been taken away. The icy water was not good for her system. But the shiver was mostly from fear. Fear for her childhood friend, whom last she had seen being thrown into a black stagecoach. Fear for her gypsy clan, who was probably terrified for their own selves. And fear for herself.

The fear for herself was far greater than any fear she had ever encountered in her lifetime before. She had taken to jumping at every sound she heard, and shaking everytime the wind rushed by. The steak knife she had filched from the Clever Crusader's Alehouse was clenched in her fist, and she waved it wildly when animals ran by. Finally, when the noon sun was high in the sky, she sank into the ground; her arms slung over her knees and her head buried on top.

She was disgusted with herself. True, she had been shy and flighty when she was young, but her nerve had come out as she grew. Now was not a time for her bold nature to retreat.

She stared at the ground, taking deep breaths, as if the force would suck the courage back into her. She couldn't get the image out of her mind- Logan wrapped in chains, being flung into a black carriage, while Felix Fortune, looked on, wringing his hands greedily. God, why had they trusted him? Because Tauli had said so. She had trusted Tauli. Still did, in fact. But not as much as before.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!

Was there _anything_ left in this world worth living for? Everything she needed in life was gone. Family, friends, food...

Food...

No. Drive that thought away. She hadn't eaten real food in the longest time. Food. Warm bread, baked over the campfire, and mixed with ingredients bought from the villages. Rich stews, with homegrown herbs and vegetables. Deer steak, that those clever boys had managed to catch with their meager twine traps. Why hadn't she bothered to smile at them before. The gypsy boys were ever so handsome. And the food they caught.

Food, food, food, food, food.

Was this paranoia? Laire assumed so. She wanted to sleep now. She was tired. And cold. So cold.

Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep...

* * *

Review please!


End file.
